Report of 28 Sept '09
Hello from my Chennai living room -
The ethereal voice of George Harrison is playing, and I am blogging. This CD was one of two things that I bought for myself and I love it. The other purchase was tap shoes.
Things have settled into a routine quickly. Our cook said her neighbor had been waiting for me to return, and the neighbor, Ms. K, brought her husband home last week. They had stopped his anti-psychotic meds on their own, and the man's mental illness was back with gusto. I referred them to the Banyan, and the good psychiatrist there is treating the man appropriately. This couple has very little money, like most of my patients here, and the Banyan's free treatment fits their wallet; some blood tests had been ordered, which the couple has to pay for. The lady mentioned this repeatedly to me, in the hope that I would cough up the cash, but those intentions and days are long gone. When I first moved here, I nearly opened my wallet the first time a patient said she could not afford her meds, but did not; later, my very prudent husband suggested I not adopt this practice, because then not only would I be known as the doctor who had come from the U.S., but also as the idiot who doled out cash to anyone who sang a "panja paatu" - literally, a famine song, or a narration of want. As everyone knows, there would be plenty of scope for abuse there.
The neighbor downstairs stated that her maid was in agony with belly pain. I examined the 18 year old, and it seemed like she had an ulcer; I prescribed the appropriate meds and she is better. I have been burned before with an unmarried maid of another neighbor, who complained of belly pain; on persistent probing, she denied all possibility of pregnancy, and later ended up indeed admitting pregnancy. Craig Witz in San Antonio, my OB professor, stated that belly pain in a woman of child-bearing age is pregnancy until proven otherwise. Such lessons are good to remember. I feel for these maids; they leave their own impoverished families at fairly young ages, and work for employers whose treatment of them might or might not be humane. It is a matter of tremendous good fortune and privilege for me that we can afford to keep our sons with us and raise them.
We visited Madurai over the weekend and spent some fine times with my parents. My mother is disabled, and in a wheelchair; my father is her primary caregiver, along with managing his practice and lecture schedule. Their sense of humor and grace are firmly intact, though, and we spent the whole weekend laughing and eating and enjoying each other; it was rejuvenating, and we returned this morning. The boys and I went out for breakfast this morning, which was wonderfully good fun, and after dosais (a kind of rice crepe), we went to wish my friend, Joan, on her b'day. Joan and I met when I was 16, and have been friends for 30 years, the sort of friends who ask about each other's families, eat all the food in the house, and revel in the company. Joan has 4 children, the second of whom is developmentally delayed; as we went in to her room to see her, Prarthana (the name means "prayer"), perked up at the sight of my sons, and was particularly delighted when Naren played music on a guitar for her; it was indeed fine playing and I felt my eyes pricking as this beautiful disabled child responded to music and a visit from my sons who are realising daily that there are folks much less fortunate than themselves. Joan's family is well-off and my sister, Anu, and I have felt happy for this, that Joan can afford the care for Prarthana that she needs.
A dear friend of the family, Uncle Subramanyam, passed away on Saturday. He was 92, and a friend to all manner and all ages of people. His advice to us in raising the boys, in our careers, his ease of manner, his powerful sense of humor, his acceptance of all who entered his house (one of his triplet grandsons has married an American, and the other 2 of the triplets married outside their community also), his holding his family together - all these were awe-inspiring, and therapeutic to recollect as we condoled with his family today. We are extremely privileged in those folks who are in our lives. Scott said Uncle Subramanyam waited for me to return before he left this world, and that was a kind thought.
I made macaroni and cheese for the family today, a great favorite, and easy to make, even from scratch. It actually does not taste very good at all, but since the men fairly inhale it, I make it. Such routine chores are quite a joy, since I have been away from them for 3 months.
It is lovely to be back, to take care of the poor, to share my skills. That everybody were this lucky.
Unw -
R
The ethereal voice of George Harrison is playing, and I am blogging. This CD was one of two things that I bought for myself and I love it. The other purchase was tap shoes.
Things have settled into a routine quickly. Our cook said her neighbor had been waiting for me to return, and the neighbor, Ms. K, brought her husband home last week. They had stopped his anti-psychotic meds on their own, and the man's mental illness was back with gusto. I referred them to the Banyan, and the good psychiatrist there is treating the man appropriately. This couple has very little money, like most of my patients here, and the Banyan's free treatment fits their wallet; some blood tests had been ordered, which the couple has to pay for. The lady mentioned this repeatedly to me, in the hope that I would cough up the cash, but those intentions and days are long gone. When I first moved here, I nearly opened my wallet the first time a patient said she could not afford her meds, but did not; later, my very prudent husband suggested I not adopt this practice, because then not only would I be known as the doctor who had come from the U.S., but also as the idiot who doled out cash to anyone who sang a "panja paatu" - literally, a famine song, or a narration of want. As everyone knows, there would be plenty of scope for abuse there.
The neighbor downstairs stated that her maid was in agony with belly pain. I examined the 18 year old, and it seemed like she had an ulcer; I prescribed the appropriate meds and she is better. I have been burned before with an unmarried maid of another neighbor, who complained of belly pain; on persistent probing, she denied all possibility of pregnancy, and later ended up indeed admitting pregnancy. Craig Witz in San Antonio, my OB professor, stated that belly pain in a woman of child-bearing age is pregnancy until proven otherwise. Such lessons are good to remember. I feel for these maids; they leave their own impoverished families at fairly young ages, and work for employers whose treatment of them might or might not be humane. It is a matter of tremendous good fortune and privilege for me that we can afford to keep our sons with us and raise them.
We visited Madurai over the weekend and spent some fine times with my parents. My mother is disabled, and in a wheelchair; my father is her primary caregiver, along with managing his practice and lecture schedule. Their sense of humor and grace are firmly intact, though, and we spent the whole weekend laughing and eating and enjoying each other; it was rejuvenating, and we returned this morning. The boys and I went out for breakfast this morning, which was wonderfully good fun, and after dosais (a kind of rice crepe), we went to wish my friend, Joan, on her b'day. Joan and I met when I was 16, and have been friends for 30 years, the sort of friends who ask about each other's families, eat all the food in the house, and revel in the company. Joan has 4 children, the second of whom is developmentally delayed; as we went in to her room to see her, Prarthana (the name means "prayer"), perked up at the sight of my sons, and was particularly delighted when Naren played music on a guitar for her; it was indeed fine playing and I felt my eyes pricking as this beautiful disabled child responded to music and a visit from my sons who are realising daily that there are folks much less fortunate than themselves. Joan's family is well-off and my sister, Anu, and I have felt happy for this, that Joan can afford the care for Prarthana that she needs.
A dear friend of the family, Uncle Subramanyam, passed away on Saturday. He was 92, and a friend to all manner and all ages of people. His advice to us in raising the boys, in our careers, his ease of manner, his powerful sense of humor, his acceptance of all who entered his house (one of his triplet grandsons has married an American, and the other 2 of the triplets married outside their community also), his holding his family together - all these were awe-inspiring, and therapeutic to recollect as we condoled with his family today. We are extremely privileged in those folks who are in our lives. Scott said Uncle Subramanyam waited for me to return before he left this world, and that was a kind thought.
I made macaroni and cheese for the family today, a great favorite, and easy to make, even from scratch. It actually does not taste very good at all, but since the men fairly inhale it, I make it. Such routine chores are quite a joy, since I have been away from them for 3 months.
It is lovely to be back, to take care of the poor, to share my skills. That everybody were this lucky.
Unw -
R
posted by Renu Weiss at
8:26 AM
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